


Truth Part 2

by The_Word_Witch



Series: Truth [2]
Category: James "Bucky" Barnes - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes-centric, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Drunken Confessions, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Snark, The Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Word_Witch/pseuds/The_Word_Witch
Summary: Request:What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelingsPairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)Summary:Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But maybe things aren’t quite as simple as they seem. (Post Winter Soldier AU)





	Truth Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Some self hate mentions, guns (not used on anyone)
> 
> (The next part is just filth so stay tuned!)

You aren’t sure if his statement throws you off so much because you’re drunk or what but your jaw hangs open. He laughs a little and cracks a small smile.

“I didn’t know you were capable of speechlessness.”

Your eyes roll, “Fuck you.” Pushing past him you plop into one of the chairs in the small lounge by the booths.

“There she is.”

You rest your head in your hands for a minute, feeling it threaten to float away. “Why say that?” You ask, staring at the concrete floor.

He huffs out a small laugh, “Because it’s true and I’m drunk for the first time in what… 70 something years? Really you should be flattered. I’m not even usually this honest with myself.”

A bitter laugh bubbles from you, “Yeah... because it’s not like I’m not already aware everyone is afraid of me killing them. Really needed that reassurance. Thanks.”

“Eh, they’re aware you _can_ kill them, they’re not really afraid that you will or that you want to.” You look at him, “I’m not _afraid_ you’ll kill me. I _know_ you would kill me... to protect them anyway. And that’s why I’m glad you’re here.” You shake your head and stare back at the floor, “For what it’s worth… I’d kill you.” He sits in the chair across from you, posture relaxed like you’re talking about the fucking weather.

“Oh, great, thanks for that too I guess.”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you aren’t afraid you’ll snap and someone will get hurt...” He holds your gaze, “You wouldn’t be in here now, or all those other times, if you weren’t worried about that. I just thought you should know I wouldn’t let you.”

You hate to admit you do like knowing this on some level because that was your biggest fear. The team welcomed you in as soon as they were sure you were stable enough. All of them good people at their core and you would do anything to protect them, but... you’d always been scared of the danger you posed to them. Far too aware of what you could do. But how could he...

His face darkens, and as though he’s reading your mind he says, “They made sure I knew how to take out every asset they had... I know how to… handle you.”

The silence hangs for a minute, “Thank you... really... thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He leans forward, mirroring your posture, “Want another truth?” You shrug, nothing could be heavier than, hey we will totally kill each other if needed, so what did it matter. “I don’t hate you. I actually like you a little.”

You can’t help but raise a brow at this, “Could have fooled me.”

“Yeah well, you don’t hate me either.”

“You know what they say about assumptions, Barnes.”

“I’m not assuming.” He sighs, “You hate yourself...” You open your mouth to argue but he holds up a hand, “just like I hate myself... attacking one another just feels better. It’s a reprieve from turning that shit inside...”

This was far too real. You bolt up, feeling the power pulse up your spine, heat from being drunk mixed with emotion and... everything making it hard to contain. In your booth you hold out your right hand and release a white-hot bolt of light, then another, and another, all the while holding in a scream.

He was so right. You hate that he’s right. Barnes was a piece of Hydra that followed you here. For years he was the threat they presented. Obey or The Soldier will remove you, be afraid of The Soldier. Even when you had been sent on missions together he was mainly there to ensure you stayed in line... So, of course, he could handle you, as he put it. You were an excellent asset to have but you were volatile, sometimes unpredictable and uncooperative. The power they gave you made it hard to keep you passive and wiped. You could pretend this was a whole new beginning but there he was almost every day, another reminder you couldn’t escape… But you didn’t hate him for it. You hated the part of yourself he reminded you of.

“Sorry,” he says softly from his seat and you fall forward, hands on the counter much as he had done earlier. After a few breaths, you walk back.

“No... it needed to be said... all of it.” You collapse on your chair, eyes stinging. “For their sake if nothing else,” you laugh, “I’m sure they’re all getting sick of our shit.”

“Heh,” he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re probably right about that.”

“You want a truth from me?”

“Shoot,” he says leaning back.

“I may not hate you but I don’t like you.” He doesn’t react, “You’re just such a dick, not just to me to every-“

“Sorry I don’t feel the need to pretend like I’m just some normal guy,” he snaps.

You raise an eyebrow, “Normal? Try just vaguely personable.”

“It’s better-“

“Better?! It’s better for the people you put your life on the line with to low key hate you? I guess save for Steve since he-“

“If I could get him, all of them, to more than low key hate me just a little that would be the best case scenario,” he says, voice rough.

You breathe out, “Woo, you are right and truly fucked up Barnes.”

“Yeah, and you’re naive.” You say nothing, the question written on your face, he answers it. “You know they’re afraid of what you can do, it’s only natural, but do you really think it’s best to walk around pretending to be just a normal schmuck? Because, in case you haven’t noticed Y/N you, neither of us, is _normal_.”

All you can do is look away. The distinction between you and _normal_ people hadn’t gone unnoticed by you for decades, and you would do anything to be just normal again. It hurt knowing you never could be, it hurt thinking of the life that was taken from you. Pointing it out like this was cruel.

“The more comfortable they are around you the less afraid of you they are. That may be what you want but it’s not best for-“

“I fucking get it,” you cut him off not wanting to hear anything else. Your head spins a bit, from the alcohol or emotions you weren’t sure. Leaning forward you rest your head in your hands groaning.

He sighs, “I’m really not trying to be hurtful…”

“So it’s just something you’re naturally good at? Noted.” He doesn’t say anything but you can hear the metal in his arm move. “Fuck this,” you say as you shoot up. Way. Too. Fast. The room tilts on its axis and you feel yourself going right along with it.

“Shit,” you hear him mumble before feeling someone’s arms around you rather than the cold hard floor of the range like you were anticipating.

“I realize this probably counts as touching you but considering I just kept you from eating it,” he lifts you up and sets you on the loveseat, but not before you notice how fucking good he smells, “maybe don’t kill me just yet.”

You laugh a little bitterly, “I’ll consider your argument, Barnes.”

“You know,” he looks down at you, his eyes for once aren’t cold, “you could just call me Bucky.”

He walks away and for a moment you think he’s really just going to leave things there, which honestly wouldn’t surprise you at all. Instead, he comes back with a water bottle. “Drink this slowly,” he says handing it to you.

“So bossy,” you sit up cautiously, leaning your back on the armrest.

“Always have a quip don’t you?” He says as he sits on the coffee table facing the couch, you expect his expression to be annoyed but instead, it’s surprisingly soft, a smile even playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yup,” you take a sip of water, “not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or a part of my stellar personality.”

He huffs a small laugh, “Can’t it be both?”

You shrug, “Honestly, can’t remember enough of my old personality to tell you if it is.” If there was any lightness in this exchange you just doused it. But… it was honest. Who you were, who you really were before Hydra wasn’t always the clearest image, and sometimes you wondered if you were imagining things about yourself that weren’t true.

“It doesn’t matter,” you glance at him, he’s staring at his left hand, palm up, flexing it. “You get to chose who you are now.”

“And who are you choosing to be, Bucky?”

He looks up at you. You are 100% certain you’ve never called him by his first name until now. “Fuck if I know, Y/N. Fuck if I know.”

For a long minute, you just stare at one another. You don’t know why you do it. Blame the booze. But you reach out and grasp his upturned left hand with your right, surprised at how warm the metal feels. He doesn’t pull away like you think he will. Instead, he just looks down where flesh and metal touch, curls his fingers around your hand, stroking your index finger a bit with his thumb. His brows knit but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re beginning to wonder if Tony’s ‘special sauce’ has a delayed release or something because as time passes you’re feeling more drunk not less. Or maybe this is always how it is and you just don’t remember. Regardless, as the minutes tick by you feel yourself giving less of a fuck about… well, everything. However, you don’t feel like a bomb about to go off like you did when you came in here and that was a good thing.

The words are tumbling around in your head. Somewhere, drowning in whiskey and special sauce, a more sober version of you is screaming, Don’t you fucking do it! But she is not at the wheel right now. “Want another truth?” You ask.

He lets out a small laugh before meeting your gaze, “Can either of us handle more truth tonight?” You shrug. “Sure, lay it on me.”

“I didn’t exactly hate that dare.” His eyebrows raise, in surprise or a question you can’t tell but you soldier on. “I still think you’re an insufferable ass,” he lets out a quick ringing laugh and a smile fills his face. Have you ever actually seen him smile like this? You didn’t think so because… damn. “But for a forced make-out buddy, you’re not half bad.”

“What’s my competition,” he ribs, it’s not a question. That was fair. There hadn’t exactly been much chance for that since Steve pulled you from a Hydra facility a little over a year ago. Not that you had wanted anyone. “For what it’s worth… I didn’t hate it either.” He chuckles, “Even if you did zap me.”

“You deserved it.” Your hands were still clasped. It had kind of slipped your mind honestly but now he was moving his palm flat against yours shifting his long metal fingers between your own. Surprising yourself, you let him.

“Probably.” He lifts the neck of his tee with his right hand, “Though you also ripped my shirt.”

“Freudian slip,” you say with a smirk.

Once again those brows raise, “Y/N, are you implying you want to literally rip my clothes off?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “I mean… look, I’m saying drunk me has… curiosities that sober me is very mad about.”

He laughs too, you genuinely like the sound of it, “What a mess we both are.”

“Would that mean it’s safe to assume those curiosities are… mutual?”

His eyes shift down to your hands. Slowly he lifts them placing a kiss on the back of your hand lingering and lifting his eyes to your own, “Maybe,” he says with a mischievous glint in his expression.


End file.
